Catarrh and Catharsis

... stalactites hung like dystopian snot from a statue her brain was frozen and formed ice in her mind a lacuna without inlet or outlet arrested in time mind’s skates tied up in bundles of snowflakes gloves off for defeat with all speed set in arrest not even her black woollen hat showed any signs of thawing heart-warming emotions for comfort empty speech bubbles covered her scraped tongue where a mouth-watering waterfall should pursue a pick axe with nothing left to dissect or construct dangled from a callous corpus callosum in pain unable to connect right left wrong or left to correct this was not what searching tranquillity had promised in contrast transcendence wept at chilly flood gates a voice that had so much to part with in a landscape of permanent layers of verglas onto vaporous rime she wished for some slime or yuck glopping goo but permafrost refused a glimpse of impermanence a fool thought it funny to stick a carrot in her nostril helpless she could not leave the vegetative state of affairs clung to a string of crystal beads at pearly gates of no return this is a lie I am Pinocchio at the threshold of truth a metaphor unable to break the spell of apocalypse unfulfilled amphora and vessel that can’t even leak incontinence at the pointless orifice of evacuation without one drop of hope for cataracts to dissolve a lonely icebreaker with nothing left to crack open where a firm skull should harbour my residual flow when a polar bear embraced her unbalanced spectre shared his white furry coat under a mantle of darkness shales of introjection floated away from the solar eclipse which had sheltered her from a charcoaled manic cauldron touching middle grounds in between scorching euphoria and lifeless apathy just long enough to remember that she had not taken her medication and the self-help manual was useless sometimes catharsis has to wait for one small lucid moment when a beak meets a beaker and cascades start from a dribble